First Things

I have often cursed myself for lack of proper foresight and never moreso than now as I realize this journal should have been started months ago, when I first arrived in Fallen London. Of course I ended up in New Newgate, just like everyone else, penniless, clueless, friendless, frightened out of my wits yet so determined not to fail. One is not permitted the niceties of pen, paper and ink in prison, nor is a properly bound journal at the top of the priority list when the struggle for survival is one’s entire world. But oh, the adventures I had! Such excitement, which now can only be recorded through the veil of memory — the unexpected kindnesses, the successes and the setbacks — unfortunately, with all the internal editing that must occur in a memoir.

That’s what this is, as much memoir as journal, a place to record those things for which Fallen London has no space. It’s my history, my narrative, mine and mine alone, as we are all inevitably alone here. Though I have betimes attempted to bridge these lonely gaps, to reach out to others in hopes of creating shared narratives, I’ve found little interest in it so far among my friends and comrades in the Neath. Perhaps they don’t feel the loneliness as I do — I could envy them that, if it’s true.

I only hope it shan’t be boring. Of all the things that sometimes plague me here, I find I fear boredom the most.

Tomorrow I go back to work, having been sucked into an archaeological expedition in the Forgotten Quarter and investigating the security around the Museum of Mistakes. My friend @narcissus_echo has asked me to look into the acquisition of a few rare coins for him and I find that the challenge keeps me occupied and content — thus out of the Singing Mandrake and The Parlour of Virtue.

At least, for now.

If you are a resident of Fallen London and would like a mention over in that column to the left, leave me a note in the comments saying so — I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, or further the one we already have.

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8 Comments

  1. Narcissus said,

    July 2, 2010 at 8:40 pm

    My divine, delicious lady! You will think me quite sentimental, but I have often considered how desolate the story of Fallen London would be without someone to share in it — and how fond I have been of our conversations for that very reason. To think, it was chance that brought your name to my attention! But as a gambler and gentleman of fortune, I would gladly have my name added to your list in hopes of skewing the odds for some lost and lonely Londoner.

    And I had hoped, too, that the Museum of Mistakes would be a worthy entertainment for you. So good to see my hopes were not in vain.

    • cl0ckw0rks said,

      July 2, 2010 at 9:08 pm

      You have been one of the delights of my days and nights in the Neath, dear man. It’s been a pleasure to speak with you and to watch your meteoric ascent through the ranks of Fallen London’s delicious denizens.

      If you’d like to expand the chronicle of our adventures, let me know. I’m sure we could come up with something suitably scandalous….

  2. NWeismuller said,

    July 3, 2010 at 10:31 pm

    My dear Madam:

    It would be my sincerest pleasure to continue to savor your delicious company as you make it available- although, I am certain, this hardly requires my so stating. It is always my deepest and most trembling pleasure to taste your company.

    Most sincerely and affectionately yours,
    N.

    • cl0ckw0rks said,

      July 3, 2010 at 10:42 pm

      Dear sir, I confess I did somewhat doubt your intentions after our last communique ended rather unsatisfactorily. Perhaps it is only that I did not make myself clear in stating my original intentions? Entirely possible — you have that effect on me betimes, I must confess.

      I’m glad you’re here. I hope you come by often. I have longed to deepen our acquaintance, for almost as long as I’ve known you.

      Delightedly yours,
      M

      • NWeismuller said,

        July 3, 2010 at 10:52 pm

        Perhaps, if we pursue a deeper acquaintance, I shall once again acquire the mark of scandal that shows me that my amusements have caught the attention of the crowd. I must say, it is deeply odd to me to be bereft of the whispers of the straitlaced. How shall I EVER be invited back to a decent party?

        • cl0ckw0rks said,

          July 3, 2010 at 11:04 pm

          It does seem rather odd to consider you without some sort of scandal in the air around you, like a hint of fine cologne. I had begun to wonder if you’d given up writing the kind of verses that could bring a blush to Sinning Jenny’s cheeks!

          A little scandal is a lovely thing. I’d be delighted to assist you in regaining your Veilgarden credentials, in whatever capacity I may serve…

          • NWeismuller said,

            July 3, 2010 at 11:07 pm

            We shall definitely have to arrange to meet for supper soon. And to conspicuously take breakfast together the morning after. That should remind the respectable citizens of our fair city of my habits, I should think.

            • cl0ckw0rks said,

              July 3, 2010 at 11:15 pm

              As I said, I am at your service.

              I would have said “disposal” but I confess I do not care for the inferences in the word.

              If you’d care to record that scene here, in this place, it can of course be arranged. I think it might be a delightful entry, or series of them.

              I will whisper secrets to you. One or two might even be considered “appalling,” but that is always a subjective call, I suppose…


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